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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161713">at least the flowers are nice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite'>writeiolite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Porn, Bad Friends, Choking, Fighting, Fingering, Gen, Hate Sex, Makeup Sex, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Smut, Spanking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:09:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27161713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeiolite/pseuds/writeiolite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>every day with osamu is like the water cycle. no matter how many times you fight and cry, you're always just turning the tides before the next storm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fictober: Month of Magic</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>at least the flowers are nice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>crossposted on my tumblr, writeiolite</p><p>✟ — <a href="https://writeiolite.tumblr.com/post/631424600223416320/the-coven-is-calling-come-one">fictober raffle</a></p><p>[ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You think of your relationship with Osamu like the rain in all its pelting, chilly glory.</p><p class="p1">Clouds that brood overhead hold unspoken secrets that only the raindrops know, but even when they spill themselves out on the ground in a fit of overloaded emotions, no one is outside to listen. No one else understands or even wants to — they shield themselves from whatever you two have to say because <em>it’s just a passing storm</em>.</p><p class="p1">You’re lucky yet cursed to have each other, always waiting with bated breaths as your life is sucked dry and you’re forced into a room together, everyone saying how you’re just alike and always get along, never seeing the hurricane because they’re in the eye of it all. And after they’re safely tucked in their beds with smiles on their faces, you two let it all out, tears that rain down becoming a calming melody people could sleep to.</p><p class="p1">It’s a mockery, really, but you two repeat the cycle nonetheless.</p><p class="p1">Tonight, in the midst of typhoon season, is no different. Again you’ve been locked in a room with him, trying to explain to your friends that you two aren’t a good match, but no one can see that. They see the happiness around you and how well the flowers grow after your fights (“you’re just bickering like an old couple but you seem so radiant afterward”), not the way your eyes glisten and puff up the morning after. They say you look “refreshed” and give you jabs with their elbows with cute little winks, thinking you and Osamu have had a passionate night together. If only they knew.</p><p class="p1">Tonight is <em>no</em> different, the two of you screaming about something you don’t even remember because you’ve found another thing to be upset about. Like the ocean, you’re repeatedly filled by the rain and dumping out your findings in waves, wrecking every sandcastle promise you two might have built along the way — they weren’t stable anyway. By the time he’s red in the face and his nails are bluntly biting into his palms, you’ve already broken down into tears, exhausted from the constant wash of emotions. There’s no use in fighting endlessly, but you two can’t seem to find another system that works.</p><p class="p1">You fight hard with your stomach churning over itself, spit flying from between his lips with enunciated words and temples pounding from the louder sentences. The only time the midnight storm comes to a pause is when he smashes his lips to yours, needing a moment of silence like a ship needs a lighthouse or a plant needs the sun. He crashes into you like a bolt of lightning, sparing the romance and letting out all the unsaid angers in the form of kisses, knowing damn well he’ll say them later when you both get ready to condensate once more. Your fingers tug in his hair and legs bump into one another before finding their respective slots between one another. It isn’t long before your back is on the mattress and he’s breathing the air straight from your lungs, desperate to steal everything from you.</p><p class="p1">The two of you flip over, turning the tides and clashing against one another, mouth and hips. Like always, the previous fight passes as the next wave comes in, the two of you battling for who can one-up the other now. It doesn’t matter that you’re on top, he’s the one anchoring you, gripping your wrists so you can’t move and still doing everything he can to drown you in kisses that you can’t escape from. It’s like he fears you’d say something and break the cycle, doing everything he can to silence you even if it means bruising his own lips. You have no plans to break away from the familiar, only getting a small moment to breathe when he takes the bottom of your shirt into his fists and rips it over you.</p><p class="p1">Why, oh why are you going along with this? You know how it’ll end. You know what comes next. It’s times like these that you understand why your separate friend groups don’t believe you when you vent, why they shield themselves with rainbows and run off with laughs as you try to explain you aren’t happy. It’s not up to them how you run your relationship, but what are they going to believe if you two suddenly split up. It’d be unheard of — you’d be ripping the rug right out from underneath them and ruining the balance in your lives by doing so, they said it themselves.</p><p class="p1">Such shitty friends, really. You yank Osamu up by his shirt, slamming your lips into his once, pulling his shirt off of him, and then kissing him again. He doesn’t object even when the fabric shifts his new earring, returning the pain with a hefty slap on your ass, nipping your lip all the same. It’s a form of revenge you welcome, one that you let him win because you’ll get back at him with something worse. Even when he grips your hips tight and runs your crotch over his, you don’t let a sound come out. It’s what he wants, to hear the thunder before he sees the lightning: to hear how he makes you feel before he takes away the final layers between you to feel the effect all of this has on you. He’s so smug even when he knows this is a bad idea, always looking for some hint that this wasn’t a mistake. That getting caught into the winds of danger wasn’t a bad thing.</p><p class="p1">It’s disgusting. You two always use this passion as an excuse for the other passion. You roll onto your back, pulling him with you so he can be in control of your inevitable crash and fall from the heavens.</p><p class="p1">Osamu doesn’t object, even being so kind to strip you both bare so you can hurry up and get the best part over with. The sooner you two enjoy yourselves, the sooner you can go back to ruining your lives. You don’t complain when he pushes his fingers into your mouth, sucking and biting on your neck hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to leave a mark. A soft bite on his digits is enough of a sign that he’s taking too long — or maybe it’s a sign that you’re irritated with him — and he pushes one into you, arm flexing from the resistance. As always, your eyes remain hardened even when they’re hooded with lust, staring into him while he pumps one finger in and out. He adds another and you still don’t falter, arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingernails digging into his back.</p><p class="p1">He doesn’t spare his emotions either, glaring right back at you and thrusting his fingers harder, trying to get any sort of response out of you that he’d be proud of even if he’ll forget about it for the next wave later. His other hand comes up, wrapping around your neck without any intent to hurt you, just keeping you in place and reigning over you. You don’t give, staring up at him with defiance even as he fits a third finger past your entrance. He can feel you clenching down around him, but he wants to <em>hear</em> it. He wants to know that someone was listening when he screamed and yells, craving some sort of response that would let him know you heard his ire even when it’s silent and between your legs.</p><p class="p1">His fingers curl and twirl, trying to hit every sensitive spot within you to make you spill all you’re worth — words, sounds, emotions, lust — but you still don’t give. Like his own personal rain cloud, you let him build you up till you’re full, on the verge of bursting before you shove him off of you entirely, straddling him once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is an excerpt of a thank you fic</p><p>
  <a href="https://writeiolite.tumblr.com">read more fics, talk to me, and show support on my tumblr.</a>
</p><p>[ ! ] if you want to use this fic in a reading video (like ASMR or smth), please dm/inbox me on tumblr or comment here and get my permission first</p></blockquote></div></div>
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